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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27109882">Leviathan Rye</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeggieSpazz/pseuds/MeggieSpazz'>MeggieSpazz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, District 9 (Hunger Games), Gen, Stay Alive (Hunger Games RP), The 42nd Winter Hunger Games</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:42:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27109882</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeggieSpazz/pseuds/MeggieSpazz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi was a hard working boy from a large family in District 9, who at the age of sixteen, was reaped for the 44th (Winter) Hunger Games.</p>
<p>Original Character:<br/>Leviathan "Levi" Rye<br/>District 9 Male, 16 years old<br/>Face Claim: Roshon Fegan<br/>Site: Stay Alive HG</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Hunger Games AU RPs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. District 9 Reaping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I originally created Levi in September 2012 for the AU site "Stay Alive HG," which was a roleplay forum, but has since been converted into a tapatalk archive. Sadly this means that the work has been so streamlined that the original writers' names no longer show. If you recognize the characters or their original writers, please let me know so they can be properly credited.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, the streamlining also means that Levi's original application has also been rendered inaccessible, but hopefully the rest of the work will give you a good enough sense of who he is.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>

<p></p><div class="pb2 postcontentheight_sig">
  <p></p>
  <div class="content noskim">
    <p>
      <em>
        <strong>Leviathan Rye</strong>
      </em>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="content noskim">
    <p>The Rye household was a flurry of activity on the morning of the reaping as the 10 members of Levi's family hurried to ready themselves for the day ahead. Leviathan rose at dawn, as was custom for many in District 9, who often worked sun up until sundown in the fields that grew in abundance all over the district. His brother Parth was up moments later, and Novan a few minutes afterward. Novan quickly shook Corey awake, and though he initially protested, he was soon up with the rest of them. The brothers dressed in silence, knowing how grueling the next several hours would be.</p>
    <p>About a a half hour later, Levi could hear the voice of their mother calling out, waking the younger boys in the second bedroom. <em>"Calley, Quil! Up and about! Sully and Seb, move! Sullivan Rye, if I have to tell you to get your butt out of bed one more time..."</em> Levi heard a smack and a quick yelp as their brother scooted into the main room, naked except for his underwear. He exchanged a quick grin with Parth, and then hurried out to the main room of the house.</p>
    <p><strong>"Shouldn't've pushed your luck, eh, Sully? You know what Ma's like on Rea..."</strong> He fell silent as their mother made an appearance, her eyes already bloodshot from sleepless nights and tears held back by sheer will. He and his brothers could joke about the Reaping amongst themselves, because not to was to give in to the fear that racked them twice a year. For their mother, though, it must have been pure hell. Like last year, Emma-Rose Rye would be sending six of her eight sons into the reaping balls, except this year, it would not be Donovan's name in the ball, it would be young Callaghan's name. Novan had turned 19 a month ago, and had finally escaped the torment, but Cal had turned 12 just a few days ago, and so it was his turn to face the six years of fear stretching ahead of him.</p>
    <p>The Rye boys ate quickly as always, but the noise that usually filled the breakfast table was stifled today. Another half hour later, Pa was at the front of the house, with the wagon and the one horse the Rye family owned. Sickle was an old, broken-down thing, but it was the only one on their farm, too old for breaking sod, but just young enough to lug the wagon over the dusty, beaten paths that lead to the square in town in time for the Reaping. The brothers sat quietly, even Corey and the twins Sully and Seb, usually the loud and boisterous ones of the group. Levi sat beside Parth, and Cal nestled into his other side, trembling slightly. Levi gently patted his back in reassurance, then looked at Parth, who nodded.</p>
    <p>Although Cal hadn't even been old enough to be reaped until a few days ago, far too late to even take tesserae, he was still far more terrified than any of their brothers had been, and Levi didn't blame him. He'd always been quiet, shier than Levi, even, usually helping Ma indoors or sitting outside with only his cat Wheatie for a companion. So in secret, he and Parth had agreed that should Cal, however unlikely, be the one chosen, one of them would volunteer. It had been the same pact they'd made with Novan when Corey had entered the reaping, and again when Sully and Seb had gotten old enough as well.</p>
    <p>As they all filed into the square with the rest of District 9's eligible tributes, Levi could feel Cal's small shoulders trembling worse and worse. He wasn't faring so much better, himself. It was hard to stay calm when your name was in the ball 352 times. He'd taken out tesserae every year to help feed his family, as had all the other brothers, barring Cal. So that meant 11 total names in every time. So by the time any of them was 18 and in their last reaping, like Parth this year, they'd have 396 names in that little ball.</p>
    <p>Finally he was standing in the square, as were six of his brothers, lined up by age as happened every year. Parth stood at the front, little Cal at the back. The man up front, who was new this year, introduced himself as Adrastos Hilt. Honestly, what was with these Capitol people and their silly hairstyles and even stranger clothing? All of the Rye brothers were dressed warmly but simply in grey long-sleeved shirts, thick woolen brown sweaters, and their black woolen pants and boots. This man, Adrastos, had platinum blonde hair done up in trident-looking spikes and was wearing a glittering, sparkling suit that looked like the wind would blow right through it.</p>
    <p>There was the playing of the anthem, then the customary welcome speech, and finally Adrastos moved to select the names. The girl he called up was a tiny thing, looking terrified and only about 10 years old, though she shuffled forward from the thirteen-year-olds' section. Levi held his breath and waited for the boys' name. So many slips with Rye names on them! Parthalan, Leviathan, Corcoran, Sullivan, Sebastian, Callaghan... He closed his eyes and silently prayed that little Cal wouldn't be the one picked.</p>
    <p><em>"Leviathan Rye!"</em> Levi was startled to hear his own name ring out through the silence, and then he heard a loud wail from the back. As the crowd parted to let him through, he could hear the loud shrieks of his mother behind him, but he had resolved to stand strong. So it would be he who pushed forward into the abyss. He hadn't really expected it, though he'd known how many times his name had been in the reaping ball.</p>
    <p>Levi willed himself slowly forward, feeling his knees tremble as he ascended the steps in front of the crowd. He locked eyes with Parthalan, ashen-faced int he front row, and he nodded slightly, more to reassure himself than his brother, that he would be fine.</p>
  </div>
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    </p>
    <p>
      <em>
        <strong>Farley Winnow</strong>
      </em>
    </p>
    <p></p>
    <div class="pb2 postcontentheight_sig">
      <p></p>
      <div class="content noskim">
        <p>It was time for another reaping. Another reaping meant another games, and that meant another failure. Every six months it was the same, showing up to the reaping, feeling the terror as the boy and girl reached the stage, sometimes with tears in their eyes, other times just shock. It hurt him to see little children get killed every Games like they did, but it wasn't like he could help it. It wasn't in his hands whether these kids died or not...At least, not really. He could offer them knowledge, but that was really it. And Farley wouldn't admit it, but he didn't even truly remember how he'd won. So what advice was there really to offer these unfortunate souls?</p>
        <p>Farley tugged on the long-sleeved sweater vest he always wore around this time of the year, where the air was chilling and the cold nibbled at everyone's cheeks as the wind softly hissed around them. The winter reaping always seemed to be the most miserable reaping of the year, just because unlike the summer reaping, the sun wasn't shining, it was hidden behind billows of snow and clouds, hiding the glimmer of hope from each child's eyes. It was all in all just depressing. Farley sighed, ruffling his hair to make it bounce a bit more, then he meekly made his way from his house in the Victor's Village to the square. As he climbed onto the stage to sit forty feet behind the reaping ball and the exuberant Capitol escort, people began to slink into the square, looking as they always did, nervous and chattery. Almost all of the people's cheeks were pink and rosy, and in the front row of the thirteen year olds, he could see a few of them shivering.</p>
        <p>Farley pressed his lips together, trying not to jump too much as the microphone shrieked and the giggling of the escort boomed out to the people of District Nine. He couldn't help how frightened he got, but he had to at least look a little sane to the children. Otherwise, they would think they were doomed to never have a solid victor again....But come to think of it, they really didn't have one now. There was only him, and Jezebel. He was the more recent victor, winning only a few games back, but he panicked at the slightest sound, and freaked over simple things. Jezebel was a fucking witch. The woman was cold-hearted and mean, with no respect for the tributes or him for that matter, and sometimes Farley wondered if she was really emotionally stable.</p>
        <p>She sure didn't seem like it.</p>
        <p>As soon as the escort ripped the first name out of the crystal ball, Farley tensed. He was doing the females first, as always, and the girl who stepped forward, looked to be only ten, despite her being in the thirteen year old group. She was automatically doomed. The careers would eat her up like an appetizer in the bloodbath most likely. He blinked lightly, watching tears well in her eyes, and Farley immediately wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't. He was stuck in his seat until the two tributes shook hands. Then he could stand. The boy was next, looking dark-skinned and a bit older. He looked about sixteen. He could possibly make it through.</p>
        <p>But there were no promises. As soon as the two briefly shook hands, Farley stood, feeling his stomach churn a bit, then he guided the two off to the train. Their they could talk without having to hold their breath.</p>
      </div>
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    <div class="pb3">
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      <div class="signature">
        <hr/>
        <p>
          
        </p>
        <p>
          <em>
            <strong>Aviva Grayne</strong>
          </em>
        </p>
        <p><strong>“It’s your last year”</strong> Anita Grayne said softly, tucking a strand of her daughters hair behind her ear to finish the elegant up do.<br/><br/>Aviva met her mother’s watery gaze through the mirror. <strong>“You’re so beautiful baby,”</strong> her mother whispered, her voice breaking towards the end. Aviva sighed and covered her mother’s hands with hers where they sat on her shoulders.<br/><br/><strong>“It’s alright mum, I probably won’t even get picked.”</strong><br/><br/>Aviva turned to face her mother and embraced her tightly. Pulling away, she smiled at her mother softly.<br/><br/><strong>“Well come on. We better go.”</strong> She smoothed out her sky blue dress and pulled her mother by the hand, towards the bedroom door where Aviva's father and brother were waiting on the other side.</p>
        <hr/>
        <p>Aviva stood patiently, facing towards the stage where the escort stood, waiting for the names.<br/><br/>The names of two very unlucky children who would most likely die in the next couple of weeks.<br/><br/><em>Probably to careers, and they'd probably suffer too. Careers are sick sons of bitches.</em> Aviva thought bitterly, scowling.<em> Who would want to train to kill people anyway!<br/><br/>But then again, it’s the Capitol's fault. They started this whole sick, twisted game. The Hunger Games, what a sick fucking joke!</em><br/><br/>Aviva swivelled her head around, her eyes roaming through the crowd of children, possible tributes. <em>I wonder who it’s going to be.</em><br/><br/>A thought struck her cold, what if it was her? What would she do?<br/><br/><em>I know one thing I'd definitely do.</em> Aviva thought grimly.<em> I wouldn't let the careers get to me, I'd kill them first, if I could. No matter what, they won’t torture me! I'll die with dignity, die fighting. Hopefully it won’t come down to that though, maybe I won’t even get picked. I mean, how many other girls are here today.</em><br/><br/>Aviva's eyes took in the crowd of girls surrounding her and she almost instantly felt better. With the exception of a sliver of unease, sitting in the pit of her stomach. It was giving her butterflies.<br/><br/><em>It'll be fine.</em> She reassured herself.<em> Once those names are drawn I can go back to the farm with my family, with Miller.</em> Aviva smiled slightly as the cheeky smile her brother always gave her popped into her mind.<br/><br/><strong>''Aviva Grayne.''</strong><br/><br/>Aviva's head snapped back around to the front. What was that? They said her name!<br/><br/>The crowd parted, noticing her reaction and pin pointing her as owner of the name that was just called out. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. That's her name! Her name was drawn. She was the female tribute for district 9.<br/><br/>A raw cry filled with a pain so deep it could have only come from her mother filled the air. Aviva jerked forward, making her way to the stage, up the stairs and facing the vast crowd spread out before her. Everyone was looking at her through solemn eyes.<br/><br/>She was on autopilot at this point, in shock. Her face remained blank, her eyes staring unseeingly towards the crowd. Another cry pierced the air as the male tribute for district 9 was called but Aviva hardly looked at him, she could hardly believe that <em>her</em> name was the one, out of <em>hundreds</em> of girls, that <em>had</em> to be called. It was her last year!<br/><br/>Feeling came back to her in a sudden rush and the first feeling she felt was hate. Raw, unbridled fury at the Capitol for making her and 23 other boys and girls do this. How could they!!<br/><br/>Someone cleared their throat snapping Aviva back into reality. She realized she was scowling fiercely out at the crowd and tried to relax her face as she turned to the Male Tribute. He held out his hand expectantly. What did he want?<br/><br/>She eyed his hand until she realized that tradition required her to shake it. She grasped his hand firmly and shook it once.<br/><br/>Aviva held her head high as the boy and her were led into double doors at the back of the stage.<br/><br/><em>This was it.</em></p>
      </div>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. An Interview with Leviathan Rye!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Levi is interviewed by Cicero Flickerman for all of Panem to see.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Cicero Flickerman</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Cicero never tired of the Hunger Games. His show was specifically designed around a yearly tradition of honor and glory. His show was the link into the souls of every tribute--to help them win sponsors during the games, and to give them that last piece of limelight before they ultimately died. It was tragic, but all for the games, right? No guts, no glory?<br/>
<br/>
Batting away his makeup techs, Cicero impatiently pulled the kleenex out of his shirt collar, to prevent the clumsy oafs from mussing his otherwise immaculate appearance. He had to be refreshed in between interviews so that the cameras captured his essence perfectly. Various techs and aides whizzed around him, and his personal assistant went over the cards he would use with the next guest: Leviathan Rye. The boy seemed entirely uninteresting, and if he weren't so absurdly talented, Cicero might have worried how he would spin the tribute. He paused, trying to remember the proper pronunciation of this tribute's name.<br/>
<br/>
He stepped out on stage to thunderous applause, holding his hands aloft, the bright lights ricocheting off his perfect smile, sending glare to the walls opposite.<br/>
<br/>
<strong>"All that for me?"</strong> he inquired, to which the audience chortled. <strong>"No, but seriously, folks, let's bring out Leviathan Rye, from District 9!"</strong><br/>
<br/>
Cicero rose to meet the tribute, taking his hand and delivering a firm handshake before guiding the boy toward his seat.</p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Leviathan Rye</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Levi took a deep breath and exhaled. Here it was: the dreaded interview. He'd never been much one for talking, except to his brothers, but apparently if you did actually say some things about yourself, people in the capitol would like you more and possibly even send you stuff if you were in trouble. Or, something to that effect. Levi couldn't quite remember. He was too busy trying to remember how to unlock his knees and walk up the steps to Cicero Flickerman, who had just announced his name. Correctly, thankfully. He didn't want to have to seem rude right off the bat by correcting him. This walk was almost worse than the one he'd taken up the steps to the front of the justice hall during the Reaping back home. At least then, he hadn't had to really say anything, and he was able to look at Parth for support. Thankfully, just the thought of his family, and the hope for a chance to see them again at the end of this helped him to rewire his brain and make his way to Cicero, who shook his hand firmly and guided him to a seat.<br/>
<br/>
As he sat down, Levi's eyes wandered across the audience. <em>So... many... people...</em> he thought, his heart rate increasing even more than it had earlier. What had his escort and stylist and mentor told him again? Oh, yes, smile! If he could smile, that would at least get things off to a good start. With a lot of effort, Levi brought the corners of his lips up to reveal his teeth, and his cheeks pulled back to reveal the dimples he'd inherited from his father. The crowd seemed to love it, and Levi exhaled a sigh of relief. Maybe he could push it further? He steeled his nerves and quietly whispered, though the microphone picked it up just fine, <strong>"Th-thank you all... so much! ...for having me here."</strong> There! He'd done it! He hadn't frozen in fear, and he'd actually managed to utter an entire sentence without fainting... or tripping... or something equally embarrassing that would ruin his chances of going home.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Cicero Flickerman</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Cicero beamed as the young boy gave thanks. <strong>"We're glad to have <em>you</em> here, Leviathan. A gorgeous name, by the way." </strong>he quipped, lying through his teeth. District 9 was notorious career fodder--they were part of the few districts that the favored liked to pick off early in the bloodbath. Maybe this was because they saw their weaknesses during training. The pack was calculating and conniving. Pure hearts like Leviathan Rye stood no chance.<br/>
<br/>
<strong>"Don't be shy, lad--you're in a room of several of your biggest fans."</strong> Cicero relayed, turning to ask the audience. "Am I right?" he inquired, lifting his hand to his ear. The audience responded in unison with a resounding, <strong>"YES!"</strong> and began cheering enthusiastically.<br/>
<br/>
<strong>"Let's get started. Your suit looks magnificent, by the way. I'll have to get my tailor to duplicate this."</strong> Cicero quipped again, before shuffling his interviewing cards.<br/>
<br/>
<strong>"First, how are you enjoying the Capitol so far? The food, the sights, the people; What has impressed you the most, thus far, of our fair city? I'm willing to bet you'd like to stay here forever, that is, after you win the Games."</strong> his voice softened and he asked these questions in a conspiratorial manner. He leaned forward as if they were old school chums talking in a private manner, instead of in front of millions of viewers.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Leviathan Rye</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Levi grinned back. This could have been so much worse, but it all seemed to be going well for him. The interviewer was nice, and the crowd was great, cheering him on even when he felt like the world was going to crumble beneath his seat. <strong>"Thank you,"</strong> he said, grinning. <strong>"Everybody calls me Levi for short, though."</strong> The crowd cheered again at what he thought was nothing special in particular, but it felt good to have people cheering for him, building him up, as opposed to the bullies at home, or that Career who had tried to beat him down with insults in training.<br/>
<br/>
Flickerman then moved the interview quickly along, complimenting Levi on his suit. He smiled shyly, tugging a little at the hem of his grey vest. He couldn't think of a time he'd felt quite so uncomfortable in clothing. Sure, it was luxurious, and the fabrics were far cleaner than anything he'd ever worn, but it was so strange to be wearing a starched white-collar shirt and a vest that didn't have any purpose other than to "look nice". But at least it was <em>sort of</em> like him. The vest, at least, was a familiar piece of clothing, and while he'd never worn a bow-tie, ever, at least the plaid reminded him a bit of home.<br/>
<br/>
The first question seemed standard for every tribute: how did they like the Capitol? Levi knew his answer right away: uncomfortable, flashy, and too loud for his taste. Not that he'd have said that. First, he'd never liked to insult people anyway, and second, it wouldn't do to put down anybody who could potentially save his life in the Games. So instead he answered, <strong>"Everything is so new here! I've never seen anything quite like it before."</strong><br/>
<br/>
Because he simply couldn't help himself, though, he added, <strong>"Well, I suppose staying here forever would be a lot easier than working the harvest all the time, but I think I would miss my family too much. Unless they could come too?"</strong> He questioned Cicero instead, eyebrows raised. It was true--if by winning he could somehow bring his family to the Capitol and have them not have to participate in the Games altogether, he would do it.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Cicero Flickerman</strong>
  </em>
</p><p><strong>"Well said, well said."</strong> Cicero inclined his head slowly, beaming heartily. <strong>"In fact, you've led us into our next set of questions."</strong> he replied, shuffling his interview cards.<br/>
<br/>
<strong>"Now, we'd like to know more about Levi, as everyone calls you."</strong> Cicero held up his hands excitedly. "<strong>Tell us about your life back in District Nine. Your friends? Family? Any <em>love</em> interests?"</strong> Cicero continued. <strong>"We know what each District does, but we don't know how you fit into the grand scheme of things. We promise not to interrupt."</strong> He said, crossing his heart and looking over at the captivating District Nine tribute with full interest. The audience seemed to lean in as well, desperately wanting entertainment of any kind. The cameras moved forward, and the cameramen zoomed in on Levi' face.<br/>
<br/>
This was the sentimental question of the hour, Cicero decided. Where they ceased to be warriors and became as human as Cicero could possibly manage.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Leviathan Rye</strong>
  </em>
</p><p><em>"We'd like to know more about Levi, as everyone calls you,"</em> Cicero said. Levi's breath hitched a little. He wasn't big on having to explain himself, but it was important. Where to start? Thankfully, Cicero had a prompt for him. <em>"Tell us about your life in District Nine."</em><br/>
<br/>
<strong>"Well, I live on a farm in District Nine. We grow rye, of course."</strong> Levi grinned at the ridiculousness of having to explain what his family grew, but the crowd still seemed to love it, and this boosted him forward. <strong>"I go to school in the winter, of course, but during the spring, summer, and early fall, the farm completely takes over our lives. My brothers and I all help my Pa out for plowing, keeping out the animals, and harvest, except for my brother Quil, who's still a bit young, but he helps Ma inside where he can."</strong><br/>
<br/>
Now, finally, Levi was in what felt like more comfortable territory. His family. He'd always very much been a family boy, good at heart, with their interests at the forefront of his mind. Now that he was feeling a bit more at ease, the words slipped out much more quickly than they had before, his face lighting up. <strong>"My family means everything to me."</strong> He began, breaking into a smile. <strong>"I live on the farm with my Pa -- his name is Solomon, but everybody allus calls hims Solo. And then my Ma, her name's Emma-Rose.<br/>
<br/>
"And then there's my brothers: Novan, Parth, Corey, Sully, Seb, Cal, and Quil. That's all their nicknames. Novan's short for Donovan -- he's 19 now. Then there's Parthalan, who we call Parth, and he's 18, and then there's me -- I'm the third boy out of the eight. I'm 16. And then Corey, who's 15 -- his full name's Corcoran, and then the twins 'Sully and Seb'. It's Sullivan and Sebastian, and they're 13, and the twins and Corey are always up to something."</strong> Levi laughed, remembering the time all three somehow managed to scale a wall and Sully got stuck on a protruding nail. <strong>"And then there's the little ones: Callaghan, who we call Cal, just turned 12, and then my youngest brother is named Quilivan, and we call him Quil for short. He's only 10, so usually he's in the house helping Ma because he's still a bit young for the fields."</strong><br/>
<br/>
Cicero had asked about love interests next, and Levi suddenly turned shy again. <strong>"I... no, not really. I'm usually helping with plowing or harvest, so there's not really much time for girls."</strong> He couldn't continue, because he couldn't tell Cicero and all of Panem about the girl who lived just one field over: Rose-Marie Bucketwood. Novan had liked a girl, Basil Wheatish, and she told him right after she got reaped two years ago that she loved him, and then she got killed in the bloodbath. Novan had never been the same. He wouldn't do that to anybody. Maybe if he got home, he'd tell her, but that was an almost-certain impossibility, so he wouldn't tell anybody. Better that she never know than cry night after night into her pillow.<br/>
<br/>
<strong>"I have my family, though, and that's more than enough for me, sir."</strong> Levi added, eliciting a long <em>awwwww...</em> from the audience.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Cicero Flickerman</strong>
  </em>
</p><p><strong>"Come from a big family, don't you?"</strong> Cicero beamed, coaxing the audience into laughter. <strong>"But what a touching story, folks."</strong> Cicero replied warmly, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket to feign wiping his eyes dramatically. before launching his final question.<br/>
<br/>
<strong>"I hope you know that we at the Capitol--and I believe I can speak for all of us, when I say that the Hunger Games is our favorite time of the year, because if we have a chance to make a difference in the lives of people we've never met, it enriches our lives as well."</strong><br/>
<br/>
He seemed be blissfully ignorant to the fact that the Hunger Games was a no-holds-barred battle royale, where underage children were turned into murderous animals, stripped of all human reason, stripped down to their natural, animalistic instincts.<br/>
<br/>
<strong>"Let's continue. I know you're from District Nine, a District that hasn't had much success the past few games. But what it all comes down to, is...why should the sponsors send you gifts in the arena? What are your chances of changing District Nine's bad luck? What special qualities do you bring to the games that we should count on?"</strong><br/>
<br/>
Cicero leaned back, folding his palms against each other as he crossed his leg, revealing a bright pink alligator-hide men's dress shoe. He decided to phrase the question one more way.<br/>
<br/>
<strong>"What do you suppose your chances are, to win? If I was allowed to bet in these games, should I place my bet on you, Leviathan Rye, of District Nine?"</strong></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This thread wasn't quite finished before the Games started, but I may come back later to just input a response to close it out. ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Levi's Gamemaker Session</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Levi tries to make an impression.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>Leviathan Rye</b>
</p><p>The tribute from Eight had just gone, and now it was Levi's turn to try to impress the Gamemakers. Not that they'd necessarily be paying attention to him, but it was his chance to at least try. He couldn't just go down without a fight; he couldn't chance having such a low score that the Careers targeted him on sight. So when he entered the room, he took a deep breath so that he could clearly state, <strong>"Leviathan Rye, District Nine."</strong></p><p>Time to show off his strengths. What were his strengths? He'd actually done okay with the scythe after a couple of swings with it, but after the boy from Two had practically jumped at his throat for doing so, he'd avoided most of the weapons. So he'd have to make do with other things. He looked around, and his eye caught the makeshift weapons center. Quickly he crossed over to it, and picked up four rocks about the size of his fist. He tucked them quickly into his pocket, then dragged a dummy toward the climbing center, opposite the rock wall he and Frost had practiced on. Leaving it about six feet away from the wall, he began his ascent, climbing the bottom slope quickly and moving on to the vertical section of the wall. He moved through this almost as quickly as he had the gentle slope and then began the most difficult part of this course: the overhang. Hopefully the gamemakers were still paying attention enough to notice that he'd managed to scale the wall in just a few short minutes.</p><p>Levi could see the dummy from where he was hanging, fifteen degrees in the "wrong" direction. Keeping a tight grip on the rock he was using as an anchor, he reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the rocks. He took a deep breath. Just like scaring the varmints outta the field, he told himself, and then lobbed the rock at the dummy. It caught the dummy on the shoulder. He'd have to do better. He pulled a second rock out of his pocket and chucked it at the dummy, this time with more force. It hit the dummy in the neck. He was getting closer to his target: the head. The third rock caught the dummy on the side of the head, and the fourth he'd managed to throw with enough force to actually make the dummy wobble back and forth, although it didn't tip as he'd hoped he would make it.</p><p>He'd done pretty well, he thought, but he was sure that the gamemakers probably wanted to see him use an actual weapon that might be provided, so he let himself drop from the wall into the safety net. He rolled quickly down to the floor, only tripping a little at the bottom when his toe caught in the very edge of the net. Bringing his speed back up, he charged over to that scythe he'd used in practice. He grabbed it off the shelf, and puffing slightly, ran back to where he'd left the dummy. He knocked it down with the butt of the scythe, and then used what was left of his strength to swing it up over his shoulder, and then down into the dummy's upper chest. He didn't slice it in half, but at least he'd made a decent gash in the targeted area. He looked back to the gamemakers, bowed, exhaled a <strong>"Thank you for your time."</strong> and quickly exited the room, hoping he'd done enough to at least get their attention.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Levi received a score of 5 for his efforts.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Cornucopia, Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Let the Hunger Games begin!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Part 1 of the Cornucopia: Everybody's first posts!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As you ascend from below the Arena in those claustrophobic glass tubes, a lush, tropical landscape meets your eye. The air is thick and humid, the sun is shining benevolent down upon you. Your eyes adjust to the harsh glare from the sun, as the slow sounds count down until you are released. Here's some advice: Stay Alive.</p>
<p>
  <strong>3...</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>2...</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>1… </strong>
</p>
<p>A heavy gong is rung, as it has rung for the past 42 years since the Dark Days...</p>
<p>
  <strong>GO!!!!!!!</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Misty Boatwright, District 4</strong>
</p>
<p>Misty bounced on the balls of her feet as Carson struggled to adjust the strings of the strange hat that finished her outfit. Adrenaline and sheer joy coursed through her veins as she <em>finally</em> bid her stylist goodbye, glad to be rid of him, fistbumping Sandy as she hopped up into the tube. <strong>"See you on the other side,”</strong> her twin said with a laughing salute, then the platform beneath her feet jerked and began moving upward smoothly, until everything around her was black, like the ocean at night, lapping tantalizingly at her toes. For a moment, Misty was utterly and completely alone, and her breath hitched in her throat as she stuck out her hands desperately, pressing them hard against the clear walls of her cell, a call for Sandy stopped short by the sight of bright sun reflecting off of familiar, frothing waves. The ocean’s call rung in her ears and this time she wasn’t imagining it, or the squawk of birds from somewhere high above, the smell of salt tingling through her from head to toe.<br/><br/><strong>“Hey Nereus!”</strong> Misty called out over the sand, excitement and relief bubbling up in her like champagne as she caught sight of her district partner across the circle from her, almost blocked by the imposing figure of the Cornucopia. <strong>”There’s a goddamn ocean!”</strong> Her laugh was echoed by another; Sandy swung her legs off the edge of the metal structure, blonde hair blowing back lightly in the gentle ocean breeze. Filled with an ineffable jubilance, Misty watched the clock tick down, <em>three</em>, <em>two</em>, <em>one</em>, her eyes darting everywhere with a deeply-seeded sense that it was all about to be hers, that this was the beginning which would lead to the end, which would be awesome. When the gong sounded, she was the first launching herself out at the glint of metal deep in the middle of a littering of superfluous supplies. She flew easily over the sand, nothing weighing her down anymore, catapulting her tiny body over a stack of wooden boxs and into the heart of the Cornucopia.<br/><br/>Her hand fell easily into the elaborate handle of a thin <strong>rapier</strong>, slicing the air as she pulled it out of the wooden support, her foot promptly connecting with the structure and knocking it to the ground, a cutlass and a couple machetes rolling onto the sand. She swung the sword nimbly through the air with her left hand, the other pulling off her hat and tossing it into the recesses of the building. Swinging her high ponytail with a shake of her head, Misty shot back out into the mouth of the structure, eyes flitting up back towards Sandy then out at the lesser tributes, salivating for blood. Misty Boatwright was ready in all of her glowing excellence. Their unfortunate hour had just arrived.<br/><br/>Health - 260 / 260<br/>Inventory - <a class="postlink" href="http://s2.thisnext.com/media/largest_dimension/235F1425.jpg">Token</a>. Rapier.<br/>Actions - Celebrated. Snatched rapier.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Nereus Dreadnought, District 4</strong>
</p>
<p>This was it. Everything that he’d gone through the past weeks – and years, really – of his life had been leading up to this. And he knew the second he stepped onto his platform that it wouldn’t disappoint.<br/><br/>The next thing he knew the plate was rising, and before long a ray of sunlight hit his face, causing him to narrow his eyes. And suddenly: sand, and the smell of the sea. <em>Beautiful.</em> Misty must’ve realized it just as he did as he heard her call out to him and for the first time in his entire life he smiled at her.<br/><br/>Taking a deep breath of the salted air, a sudden realization hit him and he quickly began fishing through his pockets. Finding the eye patch his grandfather had given him, he held it tightly in one hand while removing the ridiculous hat with the other. He then proceeded to pull on the patch and adjust it tightly over his left eye, leaving the hat lying flat against the back of his neck.<br/><br/>He gave a few hard blinks to adjust his sight before giving a half-smile and nodded towards the sky where a camera was sure to be. Rolling his gaze back to the cornucopia, he eyed the prizes lounging all around it. He stretched his limbs and coiled the muscles in his legs, ready to spring forward at the sound of the gong. All the best weapons were closer to the mouth, so he’d have to be fast to reach one.<br/><br/><em>BOOM!</em><br/><br/>Nereus burst forth with as much speed as he could muster, heading straight for the mouth of the cornucopia. He was outpacing a large majority of the other tributes, but suddenly the girl from district seven sprinted past him and neared the cache of weapons. That was a bad idea.<br/><br/>A low growl rumbled deep in the back of his throat as he urged himself onward. Before he knew it was he was standing behind the Seven, who had bent down to retrieve a weapon. He reached out and twisted his fingers around her hair, giving her head a hard yank backwards. He wrenched her around and glared silently into her eyes before continuing his search for the weapon he wanted. Finding it and wrapping his fingers around the hilt, the girl still squirming about in his grasp, he maneuvered the <strong>cutlass</strong> towards her throat. She protested, but not for long.<br/><br/>He discarded her writhing body and flexed his shoulders, turning on his heel and pointing the red tip of the blade towards the rest of the advancing tributes.<br/><br/>Blood was in the water now.</p>
<p>Health: 262/262<br/>Inventory: <a class="postlink" href="http://www.piratescoveonline.com/images/Pirate-Eye-Patch-M.jpg">Token.</a> Cutlass.<br/>Actions: Put on eye patch. Got cutlass. Killed D7 Girl.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Jade Yakuza, District 1</strong>
</p>
<p>Jade didn't even say thank you to Colette before she stepped onto the platform. This was the moment she had been waiting for. As she ascended into the tube, the bright, unyielding glare of the sun. She didn't look around, not caring what the other tributes were doing. This was her moment. Swallowing once, she located the cornucopia. There were various bags, weapons. Her eyes didn't rest until they landed on the katana. It was sitting there, gleaming like the--<br/><br/>It wasn't there. Jade's brown eyes searched frantically for a hint of her favorite weapon--the weapon she used training, the weapon she wowed the Gamemakers with, but it wasn't there. Her jaw clenched, and her lips pressed together thinly into nothingness. The Gamemakers were known for their cruelty. Maybe there was a conspiracy against District one, that could account for their poor performance in the past two years. Stemming from Daedalus' arrest, perhaps? Was the Capitol taking it out on their tributes, crippling them from the start?<br/><br/>The gong interrupted Jade's fury. Snapping back to reality, Jade leapt from her platform, feet hitting the sand at full speed. She'd show those assclowns in the control room. This minor setback only made her more determined to beat their Games, and to win for District One. She grabbed one of the <strong>Machetes</strong> mounted on the wall, and gripped it tightly. Baring her teeth, the tribute turned around, ready for a tribute to test themselves against her blade.</p>
<p>Health - 252 / 252<br/>Inventory - <a class="postlink" href="http://s7d3.scene7.com/is-viewers/dhtml/images/spacer.gif">Token</a> and machete.<br/>Actions - Acquired a Machete.<br/>Thoughts: Fuck the fucking Gamemakers.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Elliot Pierce, District 8</strong>
</p>
<p>The metal plate had lifted higher as Elliott grew more nauseous. Finally the arena came into view. He wasn't crying, and he remained strong. He managed to sneak a glance at the other tributes. 3. 2. 1. Gong! He ran. Heading straight for the cutlass, he did not notice as the guy from 4 headed straight for the cutlass as well. Then he was so close, but the guy just snatched the cutlass. Elliott sneaked away, hoping he hadn't been noticed, and he <strong>picked up a machete</strong>. He had practiced in machetes for the past week so he was pretty skilled with it. He held the machete in his right hand for good luck.<br/><br/>He saw satchels, boxes, pouches, rucksacks and drawstring bags, and wondered what he'd take. But he decided he couldn't take items that quickly, and he needed to try and make a kill first. But as the D7 girl fell, he looked left and right and realized it was going to be tricky.<br/><br/>Inventory: Machete<br/>Health: 233<br/>Actions: Picked up a machete, just chillin' in the cornucopia</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Midas Sapphire, District 1</strong>
</p>
<p>Midas stood confidently on the metal plate, chest out and head held high as it raised him through the tube and up into the bright sunshine. His predatory gaze took in his surroundings; sandy beach, blue ocean, and a semi-circle of tributes all waiting for the countdown to end. Midas located his fellow career, most notably Jade, who was located directly across from him. With the clock hit one and the gong was rung, Midas burst from his plate like a freight train, bowling past other tributes as his powerful body propelled towards the cornucopia. He saw the fours taking the best swords, Jade taking a machete and then...<br/><br/>One of the pathetic tributes from the training center- eight- had reached the cornucopia and had the guts to take the machete, even after he'd born witness to Midas' ominous warning to all the other tributes. Having reached the weapon's rack, Midas located the weapon that was waiting especially for him- a large spiked mace. He picked it up and rounded on Elliott, a vicious snarl in his throat. <strong>"WHAT DID I FUCKING TELL YOU HUH?!"</strong> He said, lifting the mace high over his head and swinging it towards Elliott without mercy.<br/><br/>HEALTH: 262/262<br/>ATTACK: [result=1d52]48[/result]<br/>INVENTORY:<br/>-Ring Token<br/>-Mace (+5 with blunt weapons bonus for max roll of 52)</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Sparrow Hale, District 10</strong>
</p>
<p>The rapid pulse of her heart was the only way she could tell she was still alive. Or maybe by the way her palms were sweating incessantly, or by the way her throat was closing up, her nervousness making it difficult to swallow. She'd thought she'd been nervous before, but now the pre-games seemed stupid and childish in comparison. Everything seemed useless in comparison to where she stood now, facing the walls of the launch tube. She didn't have long. She didn't have nearly enough time to properly compose herself. And what had she expected, really? For all she knew this was her last moment of life, to which she was clinging so dearly, and in the next few moments it could be snatched. It wasn't until it was all thrown out onto the line did you realize how much you had to lose.<br/><br/>She bit her lip to conceal the deep-etched frown on her lips, trying to remain optimistic in front of her stylist. But both of them knew better than that--Maybe it had been a poor choice of judgement to do this in the first place. Risk the entirety of her family for these Games. What if she lost? Losing wasn't an option anymore.<br/><br/>Sparrow stepped into the tube, her palms instinctively gripping the edge of the smooth, glass walls, s if she were trying to support herself. And in a sudden whoosh of air she was launched upward, into the Arena from which she might never return.<br/><br/>The first thing she noticed was sunlight. She had to narrow her eyes against the intensity of it in contrast to the dimness of the room before. The second thing was the saltiness of the air, the tang that almost stung the back of her throat, and she was reminded immediately of District Four. Those lucky bastards. She would have pursued some sort of plan of action, but her first instinct was to find Griffin, who had emerged in the tube beside her. Her hazel eyes flickered to him, and she forced a smile, which gradually grew to a grimace as the countdown accelerated, matching the pulse of her heartbeat.<br/><br/>She didn't dare speak, didn't dare breath. She could hear the numbers, echoing somewhere in the back of her conscience, etched deep into her brain. <em>Ten, Nine, Eight...</em> She looked back at Griffin, her eyebrows creased, her breath caught in her throat. <em>Seven, Six, Five, Four...</em> She opened her mouth, at first fighting for the courage to speak, and then resigning to mouthing to him the words <em>"Stay Alive."</em><br/><br/><em>Three, Two, One.</em><br/><br/>The gong sounded, an earsplitting noise against the silence she had moments before grown accustomed to. And suddenly, she was moving faster than she knew she was capable of. Small and limber would be to her advantage, at least for the time being. Sparrow clenched her fists, trying to sneak her way into the Cornucopia to at least come out with something substantial. She wanted the bow. She needed the bow. And god help her if one of those Careers so much as laid a finger on it. But at this point she wasn't guaranteed anything.<br/><br/>The blonde could hear the strangled noise of a girl somewhere behind her, hear the dull thump of a body against the ground, and the pounding in her ears became more insistent. Battling with her nerves, she resurfaced with the <strong>bow and arrows</strong>, and once it was clenched in her palms she darted her head upward, searching for Griff or for some place that looked safe enough to retreat. The Careers were hungry for bloodshed. And she was intent on making sure it wasn't her own that was spilled.<br/><strong><br/>Health:</strong> 239/239<br/><strong>Actions:</strong> Sat around and rambled about being nervous. Picked up bow and arrows.<br/><strong>Inventory:</strong> Bow &amp; sheath of 12 arrows</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Peyton Hjalmarsson, District 5</strong>
</p>
<p>So numb, so incredible. If Peyton shut her eyes, she could dream that it was all a dream- a hellish nightmare for that matter. But the whirring engine of the hovercraft that transported the frightened girl from the seemingly safest place in the world was the only piece of reality that forbade such foolish imagination. But all seemed too implausible; that a little over a week ago she was just another face among a crowd of hundreds of children, and she was the one whom was chosen from the lottery of so many names. Why couldn’t it be someone else? Why did it have to be her life to pay for crimes that strangers committed around the time her parents were just babies? This life was not a fair one, a cruel existence was the only definition to Peyton’s meager life.<br/><br/>But not all was lost; amid the grueling training and awful realization of her despair, Peyton had befriended two other poor souls trudging along hopelessly. And where their respective districts were meek, they were strong together. There was Alexis, from Six. She seemed like a kind counterpart, but the main support lay solely on the broad shoulders of Gavin from Seven. Through Peyton’s eyes, her only chance of survival rested among the pure strength of the boy whom hauled lumber from the wood-mills of his homeland. Alexis was merely a tag-along, as heartless as that thought appeared. Peyton was not a Career, but if there was some way she could miraculously survive this painstakingly impervious hurdle, there would be no hesitation in piggy-backing off of Gavin. There was no other choice; she couldn’t fathom a moment where she could actually bring herself to kill a fellow tribute, regardless of district. Maybe in the spur of pure human instinct, but that still seemed implausible.<br/><br/>Peyton wanted to cling onto her final seconds of relative freedom ever so badly, to stretch out her final seconds and gasp a final breath of air. Alas, her time was up, and the concluding grains of sand in the hourglass had slipped away to the other end. The life of Peyton Hjalmarsson was on the cusp of termination with one swift movement inside the circular shuttle tube. And so began the beginning of the end.<br/><br/>The tube cranked upwards, but not fast enough. The antagonizing moments between revelations seemed to drag on for hours, but were yet a handful of seconds. Soon though, the transition of the concrete wall and the setting of her Arena concluded, and Peyton was introduced to a new kind of world. She had never seen a beach before, but the tense sun beating down on her yielded a familiar squint on Peyton’s face. Only sixty seconds spared Peyton to recover from the shock of the new terrain and quickly inspect all it had to provide. Straight ahead, Peyton noted the huge bronze cornucopia with weapons stacked among the structure, but she could spy a few objects sunken amidst the sand with its surfaces glinting in the sunlight.<br/><br/>So much was racing through her mind; she could barely complete her own thoughts as they tripped over each other. She had coached herself through situations like this before, but now that it had become a very real terror, she was too paralyzed with an anxious mixture of fear and contemplation. What if she risked it for a big weapon? One that Careers would marvel over. Or should she just play it safe and go for a quick backpack or weapon and get the hell out of there? Maybe she should just book it in general... It was too much to comprehend, and Peyton found herself swimming like the beads of sweat forming beneath the jungle hat she was outfitted with.<br/><br/>She was beginning to panic, her heart raced along with nervously tapping feet. She lost count of the number of ticks that counted down and she frantically began to whip her head around, desperately searching for Gavin and Alexis. She would follow Gavin; Gavin would know what to do! He would save her and they would find a homey shelter and be safe for the night! But she could not find the face to that name; only strangers that she had seen around the Training Center skimmed her vision. For a moment, Peyton swore she saw Alexis. Maybe she did and she was to hysteric to notice. Whatever the cause, she needed to find him fast before...<br/><br/><em>BOOM!</em><br/><br/>It had come so suddenly it nearly scared Peyton to death before someone else would. She immediately moved to the sound, but her confused meander only caused her to almost trip over her feet. It was then that her animistic aptitude took command. Instantly, as if practiced, she assumed a running movement and rushed over to the bronze cornucopia. Without a breath to spare, Peyton leaped forward and bear-hugged a random <strong>duffel bag</strong> stacked on the wall and slung it around her right shoulder, trying best she could to ignore the flash of flying colors racing around her.<br/><br/>She hesitated for a moment, envisaging a opportunity to pass through the dense traffic of people running around. She finally summoned the courage to move onward and so she off at a fast, racing speed. Just as she was making a swift getaway, a sharp, searing pain sliced along the rim of her stomach. She dropped to the ground and held her abdomen, feeling the bloody liquid that bordered behind the ripped fabric of her district five orange shirt. This was her first taste of the pain Peyton was sure to experience along the way, maybe even the inevitable end of her life. But the invisible weapon that had pierced her had not attacked again. And so, she was safe for now.<br/><br/>Scrambling back her feet, Peyton tried to pick up the time she had just lost. Peyton swift fastened the duffel bag around her arm and dashed back to the bronze cornucopia. There was no safety out there, she needed a place to hide while all of this chaos died down (literally). But where could she go? Pressing her back against the sturdy wall, a desperate idea calculated in her brain. Without hesitation, Peyton rounded and felt the walls bronze structure. This was a rash decision, but she had no other choice. She had no chance out there, in the wild. And so, with years of practice on trees, she shimmied up cornucopia. Tumbling over onto her back as she reached the top, she crawled her way to the center and prayed that she slipped out of view.<br/><br/>Sprawled on her back, she laid flat and gazed up into the vacant sky. Peyton's chest heaved vigorously from the adrenaline rush experienced just moments before. She was safe for now. She had not formulated a game plan in the near future, like how she would evade the Careers when the bloodbath concluded, or how she would find Gavin she was able to break away from any lurking tributes thirsty for a platter of her blood. She would figure that kind of stuff later, for now she would rest.<br/><br/>Health: 234/234<br/>Actions: Went slightly insane, picked up duffel bag, climbed atop cornucopia<br/>Inventory: <a class="postlink" href="http://www3.images.coolspotters.com/photos/186293/white-trash-charms-lightning-bolt-necklace-profile.jpg">Token</a>, Green Duffel Bag (#1)<br/>Note from Shan - duffel bag 1 contains: whistle, pink sunglasses, small bandage (5M roll of gauze; adds 10HP)</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Griffin Hale, District 10</strong>
</p>
<p>The young man deeply exhaled, eyes closed as he silently reflected upon his life. The prospect that the ensuing seconds could be his last moments was highly sobering; even more than sobering, it was frightening. He was terrified. As a child, he had always imagined a different life for himself. Voraciously reading through history books as a boy, Griff wanted to travel the world. He dreamed about the day where the Capitol would be overthrown; when citizens of Panem could explore the globe again, free of oppression and enslavement. He wanted to travel the world with his family. He wanted to marry a pretty girl; he wanted to have children. He wanted to grow old with Kes and Knight; he wanted to grow old with Sparrow.<br/><br/>And then, everything changed.<br/><br/>Once his dad left, things quickly spiraled downwards. And with tesserae drawn over the years to make ends meet, Griff wondered if their lives would be different had his father not left. He wondered if, down the road, he would’ve been able to explore the world with his brothers and sister. Would he have been a world traveller? Would he have settled down - had a family of his own?<br/><br/>He missed having dreams. He missed having hope.<br/><br/>Griff felt the platform underneath him begin to rise, which almost brought him to his knees. His knees were shaking; his hands were trembling. The world around him felt unfocused and unbalanced; he felt trapped and dazed, unable to achieve coherent thought. It was the fear, no doubt. It was also the lack of hope; the realization that, no matter what, only one Hale twin could go home. Nothing could ever be the same. The young man bit his lower lip, heartbeat thrashing inside the confines of his chest. Adrenaline felt like fire in his blood, breaking down his rational thinking into bestial instinct.<br/><br/>Survival and love. Nothing else remained.<br/><br/>Light filtered into Griff’s vision, as the platform below him rose to the surface. The young man looked around, eyes widened with horrified surprise. The Arena was like nothing else he had ever seen in his life. There was an ocean – something he had only dreamed about. The breadth of the crystalline waters was breathtaking – perhaps one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. The sky was piercing blue, tendrils of clouds outstretching towards the heavens. Emotion filled his chest. It was like nothing he had ever seen before.<br/><br/>In the other direction, a vast mass of green jungle outstretched for miles. Griff’s warm blue eyes darted back and forth, frantically searching for Sparrow. He finally found her, directly across on the other side of the Cornucopia. Emotion seized him, as tears started to form in the corners of his eyelids. Was this the final goodbye? Could they make it out alive?<br/><br/>Get out. Find a weapon and get out.<br/><br/>The young man fixated his attention on a machete, which was more or less a giant knife. He could work with that. He would make it work. Closing his eyes, he listened to the countdown. These were perhaps the last seconds of his life. He didn’t feel ready; he wasn’t ready. But he had to be. For Kestrel. For Knightley. For Sparrow.<br/><br/><em>3. 2. 1</em><br/><br/>Griff propelled off the platform at the sound of the gong, expending every fiber of energy into reaching that weapon. His heart raced in his chest as he sprinted into the center of the Cornucopia. Suddenly, as he approached, one of the faster tributes reached down and nabbed the weapon. Fuck. Griff, cautious to avoid confrontation, sprinted towards another pile of supplies. In the corner of his eye, he saw the tribute get smashed by a Career’s weapon. Crisis averted. Almost crashing into a pile of supplies, Griff frantically rummaged through the mess. And there, lying at the bottom of the pile, lay a small, jewel-encrusted dagger. His trembling fingers frantically wrapped around the dagger’s hilt, swiftly ripping it from the stash.<br/><br/>Twisting around, Griff’s eyes locked onto Sparrow. <strong>“Sparrow!”</strong> he screamed, sprinting towards her. As he approached, a young girl crossed paths with him. Instinctively, Griff raised his blade, desperately slashing through her stomach. He swiftly ripped his knife back and scrambled away towards Sparrow. His eyes started to brim with tears, shocked with the overwhelming suddenness of the Bloodbath. It was the strangest, most frightening moment of his life. How could he murder for love? Reaching his sister, Griff spun around, leaning his back against hers. He gasped for breath, his chest burning with an adrenal rush. They needed to run.<br/><br/><strong>“We have to go. Now.”</strong></p>
<p>Tag: Sparrow Hale, Peyton Hjalmarsson.<br/>Action: Picked up jeweled dagger, attacked Peyton Hjalmarsson.<br/>Items Jeweled Dagger (43).<br/>Health: 220/220.<br/>Status: Day One. Morning<br/>Note: [result=1d43]43[/result] to Peyton Hjalmarsson.</p>
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  <strong>Garnet Briggs, District 2</strong>
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<p>The day had come. The day she'd spent practically her entire life training for. The day she'd dreaded since Shale and her name had been drawn together in the reaping. It was here. The moment of truth. She'd ignored her stylist in the launch room, drinking water so that she'd dehydrate slower and last longer the first day and eating a protein bar mechanically so that she had something in her stomach. He was saying something that sounded like an empty platitude about doing her best, and she gave Taylan a wan smile and sat, twisting <a class="postlink" href="http://i244.photobucket.com/albums/gg17/banalitybob/GarnetRing.jpg">her ring token</a> on her finger and trying to psych herself up so that none of her worry and nerves showed when she entered the arena. It wouldn't do to look as scared as the kids from the higher districts.<br/><br/>And then the voice came over the loudspeakers saying she had thirty seconds. Garnet stood, extending her hand to her stylist. If anything, he had been tolerable, and when...if...she won she'd be working with him again to design her outfits for the exit interviews and the victory tour and when he designed outfits for her tributes in the future.<br/><br/>“Thank you for all you've done,” she said, shaking the man's hand.<br/><br/>Turning, she entered the lift tube, settling her face into a stone mask and allowing no emotion to crack her visage. She was a statue, like what Taylan had made her for the parade but with a far more practical application. The lift up to the arena lifted her to a new mindset—that of a killer. A monster. A survivor. It was frightfully easy to lapse into. Too easy, and she didn't care. The tenderness she'd had with Shale the last few days was past and would never be again, save in her memories. Or his.<br/><br/>It was a beach.<br/><br/>And it was warm. As if District Four needed any more perks thrown their way. And there were these stupid hats. Garnet tensed as the countdown began, readying herself to sprint for the weapons. She glanced around, locating her allies. Locating Shale. Why the fuck did Four have an eyepatch on? And then they were off and she was sprinting towards the cornucopia, someone, the girl from Twelve at her side, rushing for the same things Garnet was more worthy to have. Big mistake.<br/><br/>As she reached the Cornucopia, the Girl from Twelve grabbed for the spear that Garnet had been heading for. Grabbing the girl's hair, Garnet yanked her back as hard as she could, coming away with a bloody clump of hair in her hand and the girl sprawled on her back, clutching her scalp and screaming in pain. Weak, dumb little bitch. With a passing look of disgust on her face, Garnet, lending her weight behind the motion, dropped to her knee on the girl's head, feeling the crack and crunch of Twelve's face under her knee. The girl started to convulse, fragile nasal bones probably causing irrevocable damage as they were driven into her squishy brain. Garnet bounced up and down twice on the girl's skull to make sure she had killed the girl, and twisted her knee into the bloody pulp that had once been the girl's face. Standing, Garnet grabbed the <strong>Spear</strong>, kicked Twelve's convulsing corpse in the head, and headed out of the Cornucopia.<br/><br/>Now armed, Garnet headed into the fray. Seeing both Tens with weapons, she ran at them, jabbing at them both with her spear.</p>
<p>Health: 261/261<br/>Inventory: Ring token,<br/>Actions: Grabbed Spear, Killed D12 girl, Attacked Griffin Hale with spear [result=1d50]11[/result], Attacked Sparrow Hale with spear [result=1d50]46[/result]</p>
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  <strong>Frost Galebrook, District 11</strong>
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<p>"And so it begins," Frost muttered to himself, his only comfort coming from the sounds of his tube's gradual ascension. Fear rocked his guts, striking like a hay-maker every time a new breath came to him. He could have handled death were he still back home, but here it was someone's entertainment. All he wanted in the world was die peacefully, and despite his best efforts training and in his interview, he knew his entrance to the arena was like walking into his own grave. All he needed now was someone to end it all for him. Maybe giving up would be easier than trying, it wasn't like anyone expected anything.<br/><br/>The first rays of violent sunlight broke though his glass tube, trenching him in the familiar sweat of his homeland and washing away his self-doubt. The waves gently crashed against the beach in complete contrast to the bloodshed that would follow. The towering mass of vines and trees to his back reminded him of his home forests, only much larger and denser. Looking down at his deep green clothing, he made a mental note to camouflage himself in the jungle. Carob's words flowed through his ears as the clock reached zero hour. Grab survival gear, then just make it out alive. Frost was a fighter, and whether he killed anyone today mattered little. Winning was about surviving, not killing.<br/><br/>And before another thought could pass through him, the clock struck zero. The mob of twenty-odd tributes charged the cornucopia blindly, elbows were caught, punches thrown, and as the first tributes reached the weapons, blood was split. Elliot was surprisingly quick, getting to a sword before some Careers, his only reward for such speed came from Midas, the towering One. Sickening noises filled the air as the fighting waged around Frost. The Eleven simply wanted to grab supplies and leave. There would be plenty of time to rinse his hands with blood. In one swift motion, Frost scooped up <strong>Duffel Bag 2</strong> and turned to further survey the battle. He hoped Levi would come out of this alive, maybe they would both equally feel safe amongst the forestry of the jungle. Now if only Elliot could escape One's wrath.<br/><br/><br/>Health: 243/243<br/>Actions: Stayed back, picked up Duffel bag 2.<br/>Inventory: Black Duffel Bag 2<br/>Notes: It Begins.<br/>Arie edit--Here are your items inside your duffle bag: pocket mirror, sleeping bag, hamburger (equates to one meal), box of five matches (each can be used to start one fire)</p>
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  <strong>Aviva Grayne, District 9</strong>
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<p><em>This was it.</em><br/><br/>Aviva knew she’d been saying that phrase repeatedly since she was reaped but this time it really was it. The end of the line.<br/><br/><em>Do or die, literally.</em><br/><br/>The stylist assigned to Aviva was babbling on about his cats again, all eight of them, but the District 9 tribute paid him no attention whatsoever, deep in thought.<br/><br/><em>If there’s a scythe, I have to grab it. Or at least something like it. If the careers choose to attack I need all the luck I can get. </em>She thought seriously.<br/><br/>A sudden push to her back snapped the tribute back to reality and face to face with the glass tube that would take her into the arena. As soon as her eyes landed on it all thoughts of giving her stylist a mouthful for pushing her flew out the window.<br/><br/><em>It was time. Time to step into the tube and in turn, into the unknown.</em><br/><br/>Millions of questions passed through Aviva’s mind at once, Would there be a scythe? What would the arena be like? Could she escape the bloodbath? Was she afraid? The last question stopped her in her tracks. Was she afraid? Surprisingly the answer was no. She wasn’t.<br/><br/><em>All I feel is numbness.</em><br/><br/>She didn’t know why she wasn’t afraid, she should be, she knew that, but she wasn’t. Pushing that train of thought away Aviva stepped into the glass tube. She didn’t look back at her stylist, he didn’t like her and the feeling was mutual. Instead she kept her mind, her body and her heart set on the future as the platform she was standing on began to move.<br/><br/>When her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight the first thing Aviva saw was blue and yellow.<br/><br/><em>A beach!</em><br/><br/>The rippling blue of the ocean and bright yellow of the sand spread out before them. If she wasn’t about to fight for her life she would have thought it beautiful but her eyes focussed on the Cornucopia, searching for the weapon she desired so badly. Wait.. She couldn’t see it! Her eyes scanned the Cornucopia again, frantically searching.<br/><br/><em>NO!</em> Part of Aviva’s mind screamed. However, the other part had already moved past the fact and was thinking of possible strategies and a possible weapon now that there was no scythe. As the countdown reached 10 Aviva knew what weapon she would go for, coiling her muscles she waited for the gong to sound.<br/><br/><em>BOOM!</em> Aviva shot off her platform, digging her feet into the sand she burst forward, heading straight for her weapon of choice.<br/><br/><em>Thank god for running every morning.</em> She thought as she reached her destination in record time, picking up a <strong>javelin</strong> before flying out of the Cornucopia. She knew the Cornucopia belonged to the careers so she didn’t want to be in there any longer than necessary. The weight of the javelin in her right hand comforted her. She may not be skilled with the javelin but she was decent. She’d used it when trying to impress the Gamemakers and completely messed up but she was certain that when it came to life or death, her javelin would fly true.<br/><br/><em>May the odds be ever in my favour, hopefully.</em> Aviva murmured.</p>
<p>Health: 243/243<br/>Actions: Grabs <strong>javelin</strong>, runs out of the Cornucopia.<br/>Inventory: Javelin, <a class="postlink" href="http://www.myviolethill.com/images/D/LRN016-1.jpg">Token</a></p>
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  <strong>Shale Bastion, District 2</strong>
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<p>Shale was ready to rumble. He wanted to get out there, right then, and he wanted to get the same rush he got when he'd been sparring. He loved that feeling, the coursing tension hissing through his skeleton, the clench of his muscles as he focused his energy forward, ready to pounce like a lion. He stood in the launch room, hardly acknowledging his stylist. She didn't need to get to know him, because even if the odds of him winning were a bit greater, they still weren't guaranteed. Only if he won would he get to know her as a person.<br/><br/>The loudspeaker crackled and announced thirty seconds on the clock until they'd be on the arena ground. he turned to his stylist and briefly thanked her, then he stepped into his capsule, boots clinking on the metal bottom. This hat was odd, nothing he would have worn back home. And the boots too, what was he, Indiana Jones?<br/><br/>The concealed contained began to rise, and Shale held his breath. He wasn't scared, but adrenaline was cranking up in his system already, and he wanted to run. he wanted to fly through that arena and grab everything, watching people fall, hear them scream. Oh hell yeah, he was ready. He hadn't gone on that stupid Diet of Tourmaline's for nothing. His muscles tensed as the countdown began from ten, and Shale furrowed his brow, glancing at Garnet, then to the rest of his allies. The careers would dominate, they always did. He wasn't worried. It was then that he decided to take a look at the arena.<br/><br/>A beach.<br/><br/>The fuck?<br/><br/>He glanced behind him idly, then saw a giant volcano in the distance, a jungle, and some...ruins? He turned back forward as the clock hit three, then as the gong boomed out and slammed into everyone's ears, Shale's tube disappeared and he took off, bouncing from the balls of his feet forward. The only problem was, he was running on sand. He propelled himself forward, but he felt labored. It was hard to run on sand, it was soft and grainy, and it slowed him down considerably.<br/><br/>Others flew past him, and Shale felt a glare appear on his face. He pushed his muscles even harder, then grabbed all that was left that was considered somewhat formidable, a <strong>javelin.</strong> It wasn't his choice of a weapon, he'd preferred a sword, but from the looks of it, there wasn't one. SO he was going to be stuck with the javelin, unless one of his allies offered him a better weapon. But, he highly doubted that.<br/><br/>To unleash his anger, her turned and found the boy that some of his allies were already attacking, who was the brother of the girl who nereus was fond of, if he was correct, then he ran forward and slammed his javelin against the boy.<br/><br/>health: 260/260<br/>Inventory: Javelin and <a class="postlink" href="http://www.phxbodymindandsoul.com/media/AA/AA/phxbodymindandsoul-com/images/100788/main/Pet_Rock___Plant.jpg">Token</a><br/>Roll: Attacked Griffin Hale - [result=1d40]13[/result]<br/>Actions: Took Javelin. sittin around the corny.</p>
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  <strong>Alexis Walker, District 6</strong>
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    <p>The glare of the sun was blinding, her eyes needing a chance to adjust to the sudden change from the temporary darkness of the launch tube. As her vision started to return, the heat that Alexis felt around her was unexpected. It shouldn't have been nearly as surprising as it was considering the uniform she had been dressed in by her stylist only minutes previous. Still, it would have been impossible to predict exactly what had been selected for the Arena before hand.</p>
    <p>A loud, bass heavy voice boomed over an unseen intercom, steadily counting down the time. <em>30 seconds...</em> Alexis looked around, scanner her surroundings. They were on a beach, by the ocean! She had never been to a beach before, or seen the ocean on anything but the television. Even with the impending immediate danger, she couldn't help herself from thinking just how beautiful it was.</p>
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      <em>16...<br/>15...<br/>14...</em>
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    <p>Pulling her focus away from one of her fantasies (sort of) becoming a reality, Alexis looked around for Quinlan, spotting him a number of platforms away. She would have to do her best to keep an eye on him.</p>
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      <em>10...<br/>9...<br/>8...</em>
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    <p>Her mind swam with thoughts, doing her best to keep straight just what she needed to do. She and Quin weren't without a plan, and Fee had given her plenty of good advice. Now all Alexis had to do was put it to use and surivive.</p>
    <p>As the gong rang out, Alexis moved without thinking. her body acted on it's own as mind tried to stay sharp. While most others ran inwards, Alexis ran outwards. She stayed low to keep out of sight and out of the way of as many others as possible. Stopping only for a moment, Alexis stooped over and grabbed hold of a loose hanging strap, pulling a <strong>Messenger bag</strong> out of the sand and immediately slinging it over her shoulder.</p>
    <p>HP: 232/232<br/>Inventory: Messenger bag 2 (and its unknown contents), token photograph<br/>Actions: Grab a messenger bag<br/>Note from Arie: Messenger bag 2 contains: eyepatch, quick-fire-starting log (1ft in length, waterproof, need matches to light, can be used once), poison dart tube and 10 darts</p>
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      <strong>Quinlan Boxcar, District 6</strong>
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    <p>As the tube ascended, Quinlan became aware of a very dire reality; he had to sneeze. He tried to stifle it, but it was no use -- every moment that he delayed the inevitable, the potential of the sneeze's violence grew greater. This could not be how he died. Sneezing himself off the platform and exploding was just too humiliating to even contemplate.</p>
    <p>As he emerged into bright sunshine, the boy forgot about his sneeze for a moment. A beach? This was hardly the barren wasteland he had pictured. The air was humid, thick with moisture, and the foreign sound of crashing waves masked all other noise. District Four was shouting something joyfully to her counterpart, but everyone else looked grim. It was then that Quinlan's sneeze snuck up on him; he didn't have time to stifle it with his hands, so it came exploding out with more intensity than any sneeze he'd ever experienced before. Knocked askew by the force of the involuntary action, he teetered on the edge of the platform for a moment, his heart pounding wildly, but then he regained his balance. Relief coursed through the boy, but there was no time to enjoy it -- the gong was already sounding.</p>
    <p>Joining the mad scramble of tributes as soon as he could make his legs work, Quin's eyes darted around, looking for something useful to grab. He was on autopilot, not really registering anyone or anything. The only things in focus were the items available to be snatched up. Weapons belonged to the careers, he knew that much, but everything else was fair game. Panicking, afraid to choose wrong but even more afraid of hesitation, Quinlan grabbed <strong>satchel one</strong>. His head snapped up, his gaze darting back and forth. Marking the careers, marking Alexis. He had to get something good for her, regardless of whether or not he died doing it. If the girl was going to have a chance at victory, she needed some good items, not an empty-handed failure of a partner.</p>
    <p>Note: #YOLO<br/>Health: 239/239<br/>Inventory: Satchel 1<br/>Note from Arie: Satchel 1 contains: suncream, night-vision goggles (prevent loss of 5 on attacks at night), pack of 10 self-heating meal-packs, pair of socks</p>
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      <strong>Balthazar Lughnassad, District 12</strong>
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      <em>This is where you die.</em>
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    <p>The thought alone made him want to throw up, which was maybe why it hurt so much. He was going to die here, surrounded by warm sea air and sand and the jungle just there. He could see the Cornucopia and watched with a certain carefulness to his eyes. There were a lot of various bags and some boxes scattered about in the area. There were weapons closer to the center. The larger, more intimidating ones would be snatched up immediately by Careers or by the tributes unaware of how possessive the Careers were of those weapons.</p>
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      <em>45.</em>
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    <p>More bags than weapons, but no scattered supplies like they had at some years. <em>Weapon first, then a bag, then run.</em> That was all he could do at this point to fight to survive. Grab what he needed and run. Run so fast that even in the sand they couldn't catch him. No one could catch him, if he was fast enough.</p>
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      <em>30.</em>
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    <p>The timer became his very heart beart - like one giant, resounding pulse that rattled from his head to his toes, right down to the bone. His eyes tried to search for the girl from Twelve, but couldn't fight her with their distance from each other. It was no matter. They had made no deal to ally in the Games. Hell, even since the Reaping, she seemed to have almost ignored him entirely. That wasn't a way to keep a district partner, now was it?</p>
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      <em>15.</em>
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    <p>It was close, so close that his fingers twitched on his side.</p>
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      <em>10.</em>
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    <p>Others were starting to move on their plates, getting ready to run straight for the Cornucopia, from the looks of them. Balthazar didn't move for fear of being blown sky high.</p>
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      <em>5.</em>
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    <p>Viola was here, around his neck. Viola was in District Twelve, watching. He had to fight.</p>
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      <em>1.</em>
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    <p>If not for himself, then for her.</p>
    <p>It was this thought that made him push forth from the plate onto the sand of the Cornucopia. He already saw blood in the water.</p>
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      <em>It's beginning.</em>
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    <p>But that didn't matter, all that mattered was that his eyes caught sight of a weapon, one that he <em>knew</em> would be useful to him, not just because he knew how to use it, but because the Careers didn't like little weapons like <em>those</em>. He rushed to <strong>Poison dart tube and 10 darts</strong> and grabbed it, doing his best to be as aware of his surroundings as he could be (which was a lot harder than one would think it was). He did his best to rush away, keeping in mind to stay well away from any of the Careers at least, who would cut into him in a second if they could. His eyes were also doing their best to look for a bag - any bag to grab up and run with.</p>
    <p>Inventory: Poison dart tube and 10 darts, <a class="postlink" href="http://i725.photobucket.com/albums/ww257/quarantinez/butterfly-wing-necklace.jpg">token</a><br/>HP: 241/241<br/>Summary: Grabs shit, hopefully does his best to avoid the Careers.</p>
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      <strong>Zener Volt, District 5</strong>
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  <div class="content noskim"><p>Zener had never felt this sick in his life, the colour was completely gone from his face making a stark contrast between the soft gold of his skin and the strange ensemble he was dressed in; first there was the bright, beacon of an orange tank top which he was damn near positive would get him killed, then there were the black pants which though conspicuous stood out glaringly against his complexion and finally there was the hat. Zener had no idea what to think of the hat but he knew all too well that a day away from his stylist’s care and it would no longer fit over the frizzy mess that would become his hair.</p>
<p>His heart was hammering wildly against his chest as slowly the tube began to ascend and he turned desperately to pound against the glass, crying out for his stylist to help him, to make it stop until, finally, his head was above the ground and he was alone but for twenty-three other children, all of whom were set to fight to the death to save themselves. His eyes scanned the lines of tributes for Gabrielle, falling to Quinlan for a heartbeat, he’d rejected Gabrielle’s invitation of an alliance and the last Zener had seen of him was a smile and then he had shuffled away. He turned away, forcing himself to breathe deeply, to calm his raging nerves.</p>
<p>It was no use, his muscles jerked abruptly through his hands and there were tears already running down his cheeks which he wiped violently away, his fingers curling into a fist and releasing in rapid, spasmodic episodes as he listened to the countdown, his heart in his throat and a feeling like knives in his stomach as he waited for the countdown to reach zero and the gong to sound. For the moment he waited, tensely, eyes darting around his surroundings, they were in a really odd sort of place, the ground was made up of an odd soft looking off white substance, nearby was a huge expanse of water which ebbed and flowed in the weirdest possible way. He was staring, fixated at the odd behaving water when…</p>
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<p></p><div><p><em><strong>‘There!’</strong></em></p></div>The gong sounded and he stood there confused for a heartbeat before taking off, running for the array of weapons and backpacks scattered around the great shining horn called the cornucopia. He leaped from the plate, landing on the surprisingly soft surface, looking around him in alarm as the previously beautiful location exploded into action with children running hard to gather weapons and supplies, attacking each other and staining the white sand and crystal blue water in red. Fear was almost overwhelming the young man from five then, burning through his brain and freezing him in his place.<p>The violence and fury of his new world was terrifying as he watched, blank faced the events unfolding, it took the death of the girl from seven at the vicious hands of the boy from four to jolt him into life and so, Zener Volt took off for his first task as a tribute in the arena; get to the weapons and find a javelin and some supplies, find Gabby and get the hell out of there.</p>
<p>He stared in horror as the last javelin was snatched up by the boy from 2. What was he going to wield now? It was the only weapon he knew how to use! Desperately he stared around himself, trying to spot any sort of weapon he could maybe pick up the use of here in the arena. He saw nothing aside from a little knife that he could possibly use, gritting his teeth in frustration he dove into the fray, snatching up a strap of the <strong>messenger bag one</strong> and breathing hard as he booked it away from the horn pausing to hover awkwardly on the outskirts, eyes scanning the crowd desperately for any sign of Gabrielle, his heart hammering as he toyed nervously with the woven bracelet wrapped around his wrist; the symbol of their friendship.</p></div>
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    <p>Health; 241/241<br/>Actions; Snatches up messenger bag one, books it to the outskirts, fusses with bracelet, cries inside.<br/>Inventory; Messenger Bag One Contents: toothbrush and paste, Cicero Flickerman's autobiography, three water purification tablets (purify three portions of water)<br/>Notes; Lolololol I’m so excited /tumbles Zener off a cliff.</p>
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      <strong>Leviathan Rye, District 9</strong>
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    <p>It was here. The games were about to start, and Levi was going to be sick. He'd thought it was bad when he'd ripped the dummy apart with a scythe, but no... now was a thousand times worse. The little tube took him up to a blindingly bright beach and he had to stifle a groan. Water had never been something he was comfortable with, especially after nearly drowning in a flooded river a few years ago. He'd just have to lie low and get out of there as quickly as possible once the gong sounded.</p>
    <p>
      <em>Happy 42nd Hunger Games.</em>
    </p>
    <p>
      <em>And may the odds be ever in your favor.</em>
    </p>
    <p>60... The countdown had started. Nervously he fidgited with the small band around his left wrist.</p>
    <p>59... 58... It was spun of a golden yellow thread, with three beads carefully woven into the threads, a single rune written in cocoa-brown engraving on each.</p>
    <p>57... 56... 55... His mother had given it to him as she left him in the justice building, the walls caving in around him.</p>
    <p>54... 53... 52... He tried not to think about his mother, crying as she had been when they'd said good-bye.</p>
    <p>51... 50... 49... Crying in the justice building, crying on the platform, trying to breathe.</p>
    <p>48... 47... 46... A quarter minute gone. He breathed in and out, trying to calm himself.</p>
    <p>45... 44... 43... 42... 41... What did he need to do? Oh, yes.</p>
    <p>40... Levi closed his eyes and turned his head upward, waiting for the thirty seconds it usually took his eyes to adjust to bright sunlight.</p>
    <p>10... He could see around him, now. Bags strewn everywhere. Dozens of bags. There, near him, a large duffel.</p>
    <p>9... Weapons, too. But they were not so important. He could make something, if need be.</p>
    <p>8... There! Off in the distance, the shadows that alerted him to trees. Perhaps a forest - something with cover.</p>
    <p>7... His eyes flicked back and forth, spotting familiar and unfamiliar faces.</p>
    <p>6... Frost. He hoped they'd both make it out alive. Maybe they'd meet in the shadowy place.</p>
    <p>5... Midas. He remembered the One from training, resolved to not get himself killed by the boy early on.</p>
    <p>4... Callaghan. No, wait... Cal was not here. Cal was safe, at home, probably praying with the rest of the family. Or off hiding with Wheatie.</p>
    <p>3.. Wheatie. That damn cat, always tripping him when he needed to concentrate most.</p>
    <p>2.. Parth. Parth and Novan in the fields, laughing to pass the hours more quickly.</p>
    <p>1. Mom. I love you. Goodbye.</p>
    <p>
      <em>GONG!</em>
    </p>
    <p>Levi lurched forward, his eyes zeroing in on the <strong>duffel bag</strong> he'd spied earlier. He clutched it tightly in his hands as he looked around for anything else that could be useful.</p>
    <p>His heart pounded in his chest. He only hoped he'd make it out of this bloodbath alive.</p>
    <p><strong>Leviathan Rye:</strong> 221/221<br/><strong>Inventory:</strong> <a class="postlink" href="http://i985.photobucket.com/albums/ae338/AlaskanSky/LeviToken.jpg">Token</a>. Duffel bag 3. Arie edit: Duffel bag 3 contains: frying pan, pair of socks, empty self-purifying water bottle (automatically purifies water - ten times)<br/><strong>Bonuses:</strong> Running. Makeshift Weapons.<br/><strong>Summary:</strong> Levi runs, grabs duffel bag 3.<br/><strong>Notes:</strong> Le post is short 'cause I don't have net for very long today.</p>
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  <div class="content noskim"><hr/><hr/>
<p><strong>Tricity Fenn, District 3</strong></p>
<p>Tricity had spent all of last night in her room crying. She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat. She forced herself to drink some water and eat a tiny bit of food so she had something in her stomach before leaving for the arena. She said good-bye to everyone who had been so nice to her. Her style team, her mentors, the servants working at the training center. She was heading to her death, and she knew it. She wasn't ready to accept it, but she could see it coming.<br/><br/>The trip to the arena was actually pleasant. She talked with her stylist about other things to keep the mind off of what was to come. She didn't need strategy talk, or motivation. She just wanted distraction from the terror that was haunting her. She talked about her friends and family back home, and her favorite clothes that her parents had bought her, and for a short moment, she actually felt happy. And Tricity hadn't felt that since the day of the reaping.<br/><br/>But the fear quickly crept back when it was time for her to change into her outfit. And what a weird outfit. In the blink of an eye, she had said good-bye to her stylist and was in the tube. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and told herself that she would not cry in front of the Capitol. Shielding her eyes as she came to the surface, she looked around to a beautiful tropical arena. <em>'At least I get to visit a tropical paradise before I die'</em> Tricity thought, admiring the beauty of the ocean and the palm trees.<br/><br/>Then the countdown started. Looking around, Tricity saw quite a few weapons buried in the sand, but there were also lots of bags and boxes. Not knowing what each bag would hold, Tricity wondered if it would be more beneficial to go for a weapon. But she could also encounter a career trying to go for the same weapon. She knew that she had to be smart about this.<br/><br/><em>5...4...3...2...1...</em><br/><br/>The countdown that seemed to take ages on tv was over before it had barely begun. The gong sounded, and tributes went running in every direction. Tricity watched the careers run for the weapons, and decided that it would be best not to try for those. Running for her life and pushing tributes out of her way, she reached <strong>Wooden Box 3</strong> and ripped it open, grabbing the contents inside. She was far enough away from most of the action, that she hoped she could escape quickly, but she also wanted to see where her district partner was, and if she could possibly get any more items before fleeing the bloodbath. She needed to be as best prepared for hiding and survival as possible when she left the bloodbath. There would be no returning to the cornucopia after this.<br/><br/>Health - 234 / 234<br/>Inventory - Wooden Box 3 Arie edit: night-vision goggles (prevent loss of 5 on attacks at night), carrot (equates to one meal), baseball cap<br/>Actions - Trying not to be noticed by the careers</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>Gavin Perkwood, District 7</strong></p>
<p>Gavin couldn’t believe that this was it; the moment that he had been trained for, the moment that he could die. He put on his odd outfit, wondering how he could possibly keep safe in an outfit like this, and having no idea what the challenge could be. He laced up his boots, nice and tight so that they would not bother him while he ran. ‘I have to get to an axe’ he thought. ‘Then I’ll be alright for a while.’<br/><br/><em>DING</em><br/><br/>Time to go into the shoot. Time to get brought up into the unknown. Time to live life as if any second he could die… and he could. Climbing into the shaft, Gavin stared one last time at the face of his stylist, knowing that that would be the last face that he would see that wasn’t a threat. The doors closed, and he started upwards towards the field.<br/><br/>It took a while for Gavin to get used to the light, but before he did he heard a different sound, something... unfamiliar. A beach! ‘That’s going to make running difficult’ he thought as he looked around at the different tributes. He recognized Leviathan, and saw that he was already crying. He noticed the careers, blood lust in their eyes. Then he looked into the cornucopia and was at a loss. There was no axe for him there. There was nothing that he had practiced with there. ‘shit’ he thought.<br/><br/><em>10</em><br/><br/>This is it. The moment everyone was waiting for.<br/><br/><em>5</em><br/><br/>Gavin got in the running position, ready to run for the first thing he saw.<br/><br/><em>GONG</em><br/><br/>Gavin made a mad dash through the sand towards the cornucopia. Near the outer, but still middle, part of it he saw a <strong>club</strong>. He ran towards it and picked it up. He quickly turned around and got out of the middle there. It was a death trap that he was not willing to be a part of.</p>
<p>Health: 238<br/>Actions: Picked up the Club, went to the outskirts of the cornucopia</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>Gabrielle Calico, District 8</strong></p>
<p>Gabrielle closed her eyes and bowed her head as the platform began to ascend. She clasped her hands together and waited, letting the rhythmic clicking of the platforms ascent sooth her nerves a bit. She reached the apex of her short trip to the surface an the count down began. She felt the warm sun on her back, she heard gulls and smelt the sea spray. Something she had never experienced before. Gabby inhaled and slowly lifted her head. A coastal breeze whipped her hair across her face as she stared into the wind. Such a lovely place, if she didn't have people back in the districts to help she would be content to stay here forever. Sadly there was just no time for forever right now. She tugged her tank top down, smoothing out some wrinkles just as the gong struck and every one else took off. <strong>"Alright."</strong> Gabby grinned with determination. <strong>"Let's do this."</strong> She pulled her hat on and dashed towards the cornucopia across the soft sand.<br/><br/>You see, the key at the cornucopia isn't to be the fastest. Not for the average tribute any way. The careers will always get the good weapons. What you need to do is hold back a little ways, let the careers pick their first targets and then its as easy as keeping away from them. She gave them a wide birth as she zeroed in on her target. A wooden box, box's were good if you were willing to take a gamble. It could be useful, it could be nothing. Luck had always been on Gabby's side before, reaping not included. She held the box tight and stayed out of every ones way. There on the outskirts was Zener. Just standing there. <strong>"GO!</strong> She commanded and pointed away from the cornucopia. Gabby would get the supplies that they needed, as much as she wanted to have faith in him she couldn't help but worry about Zener getting himself killed. She could help that boy, but not if he was dead.<br/><br/>Health - 228 / 228<br/>Inventory - Wooden Box 4 Arie edit: tarpaulin, pack of biscuits (equates to one meal), sponge</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>Dahlia Newton, District 11</strong></p>
<p>Dahlia dawdled at the base of the glass tubes, intrigued and frightened for the first time in many years. Behind her, on the table, her stylist, who had been so patient for the entire experience, was writing out a letter of sorts. He was just signing it when a voice over the loud speaker announced that there were sixty seconds until the platforms were raised. Any bit of something that wasn't dread and terror flushed out of her body in one fell swoop, she found herself trembling violently as the stylist slid the white sheet of paper, now folded into one small, silky square, down the front of her tank top, securing it under the elastic band that sucked her underwear to her rib cage.<br/><br/>Silently, stiffly, Dahlia stepped into the tube. She would have been sobbing if her chest hadn't locked into place, holding her to short, sharp, ragged breaths. The girl didn't even turn around to acknowledge a goodbye, just stared, wide eyed, at the back wall as the ground slipped away underneath her and she was pushed skyward, into silence, into darkness.<br/><br/>How many years had she missed? Had they told her the same thing every morning? They must have, because she had still scored a four in her Gamemaker. Why couldn't she remember these events? Though she had a complete catalog of everything before... It was distant, fuzzy. Like someone had spilled water over them. Would she have anyone to tell her this tomorrow morning? What if she didn't sleep, that might do it.<br/><br/>She closed her eyes tight and the platform locked into place, the salty, fishy smell of the ocean wafting about her, along with heavy perfumes lacing the humid, thick air; if it had smelled a bit more like peaches it could almost have been a breeze from home. Startled, she opened her eyes.<br/><br/>Dahlia stood in the middle of a beach, which she assumed could only have been in the middle of the ocean, from the unending stretch of blue on her right, that also contained a forest, though she had never seen one like it before. Her eyes focused on the Cornucopia, her hands trembling still, though she knew she would never attempt it.<br/><br/>As the clock struck zero, Dahlia couldn't remember if she had said goodbye to her parents, or if they had told her that they loved her. She guessed she would never know.<br/><br/>The tributes around her burst into motion, some barreling for the center, others sprinting arcs to grab items, but the girl could only stumble a few feet off of her platform.<br/><br/>If she died now, it wouldn't be painful. The other were too busy, they wanted things fast right now. Her mother and father wouldn't have to sit through the day-to-day, worrying. It would be simply. She wouldn't have even made it out of the first part. Absentmindedly, she picked up a <strong>rucksack</strong>(5), and glared down at in, the screaming and shouting and turmoil around her disappearing as she berated the bag. It was probably full of useless things, a tea towel, a pencil, a bag of melted ice. That was how those people did this.<br/><br/>Finally, a lightning strike of anger flashed over her body.<br/><br/>Dahlia would not just roll over and let them have her. She could save people, she could fight, she could try to do any good in the next day, or however long she could last, and though later she would understand the foolishness of this idea, it was all she needed for the moment. The young girl turned and broke into a run, shouldering the rucksack.</p>
<p>HP:200<br/>Inventory: Rucksack 5, token.<br/>Actions: Picked up rucksack, is moving to leave the Cornucopia.<br/>Notes: your mom.<br/>Arie edit: Contents of rucksack blue beach towel, box of seven matches (each can be used to start one fire), bottle of rum</p></div>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Apologies if it's a little confusing; the Cornucopia thread is of course ALWAYS a bit confusing, as all the tributes have to post at least once in this thread before moving out to their own threads.</p>
<p>Players were free to have their characters act as they saw fit, and admins on the site would fill in inventories when items such as bags were picked up. Additionally, numbers in [result] brackets refer to rolls cast via the coding on the site, so that attacks between played characters were performed in an unbiased, random manner.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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